


Summer (Gift of) Time

by desperationandgin



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Fraser's Ridge, garden sex, outdoor banging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 16:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: With Jamie's help, Claire attempts to get her garden ready for planting. But it's hot, and someone has other ideas.





	Summer (Gift of) Time

The heat in North Carolina in mid-July was, to be perfectly honest, some of the worst I’d ever endured, save for being stranded on an island with no water or relief from the sun. The Ridge felt as if it were on fire from the earth beneath us, heat rising up and setting the rest of the world a blaze.

It likely _only_ felt that way because I’d spent the morning and early afternoon bent over it, trying to turn over the soil in order to prepare my garden for fall planting. Leafy greens and tomato plants were the objectives, along with Brussels sprouts. The latter wouldn’t be all that popular in America until the next century, but it hadn’t been hard to find kindly German immigrants in Wilmington willing to make a trade; a handful of seeds for a rooster and a chicken that would give them eggs and therefore chicks ( _and more food_ ) later.

I was grateful for the opportunity to plant hearty vegetables to get us through winter ( _which I knew could be just as brutal as the summer_ ), but it was hard to feel any sort of way other than sticky and _done_ by the time mid-day arrived. It was just Jamie and me, as Ian was spending the day with John Quincy Myers learning how the delicate barter system with the Natives worked. As such, my propriety in regards to clothing had flown out the window, and while trousers weren’t uncommon for me to wear anymore, one of Jamie’s shirts hadn’t yet made it into my routine until now. It was too hot for skirts and stays, and after our meal, I disappeared to change clothing while Jamie went back outside.

When I reappeared, I wore one of his too-large shirts, tucked in so far I was sure the hem was visible at the bottom cuff of my trousers. I’d rolled the sleeves all the way up, and one side mostly hung off of my shoulder, but overall, it was better than all of the heavy material I’d been wearing. Leaving the house with a fresh bucket of water for us both to drink from, I set it down between us and kneeled in the section of dirt opposite Jamie.

“Did you remember to put more lotion on your face?” I asked, trying to get a good look at his skin. With no such thing as sunscreen and a red-headed husband prone to burning, I’d done my best to make a salve as close to sunblock as I could. It was a blend of almond, carrot, and red raspberry seed oil in a hand cream; not nearly as good as something with zinc, but better than nothing.

“Aye, Sassenach, I—”

His words stopped abruptly and I looked up, only to find him staring directly at my chest. Looking down to see what he was gaping at, I realized the low-cut shirt — suitable for Jamie — was giving him a perfect view of fabric hugging the curve of a breast. Rolling my eyes, I smirked at him. “Enjoying the view?”

“Is that my shirt?” he questioned somewhat dumbly. His eyes hadn’t moved back to his work yet, but they did roam my form now, or what he could see of it while I was on my knees digging.

I snorted, huffing and vigorously pulling at dead vegetation from winter. “It is. Your clothing is more practical and well-suited for being under the sun all day,” I pointed out, glancing back up at him as he seemed to reluctantly pull his eyes away and resume his job.

“I dinna mean to point out the obvious,” Jamie began, turning over soil. “But my own shirt tends to come off before I’m finished for the day, on account o’ the heat. It may be cooler now, but I promise ye, it will begin to feel the same as anythin’ else,” he assured me.

He wasn’t the only stubborn one in our family, and I jutted my chin out. “We’ll see. I’m not so sure; I think you enjoy watching me admire you,” I accused with a grin I tried to bite back. Mostly, I failed at the task.

“And ye think that’s why I remove my shirt?” he asked, having the nerve to sound affronted while gaping at me.

His tone was too much, and I laughed before I could stop myself. “I’ll never believe you if you say otherwise,” I admitted, eyes dancing in good humor at him.

Jamie grumbled, but couldn’t quite hide the smile I glimpsed before ducking his head.

“On the other hand, you do work hard all day,” I allowed. “You tend to roast in the sun longer than I do. I worry about that, you know. Skin isn’t _supposed_ to burn and peel, generally speaking. The longer you can keep your shirt on, the better.” I did enjoy looking at him, but winced in sympathy each time he returned to me looking like a boiled Maine lobster.

This time when he peered at me, his features were softer and his eyes remained on mine. “I ken ye worry, but ye do well to take care of me. At least, I’ve no complaints.”

That earned him a kiss across the barely-there crops before we both focused on our respective jobs. By the time the sun began to shift from its highest point over toward the west, I felt as though dirt were sticking to my skin via sweat. Pausing, I made my way toward the water bucket, bringing out the ladle and taking a healthy swallow before contemplating the amount of water left. Dipping back in, I held the spoon in front of my face, imagining rivulets of liquid mercy flowing over my skin. Before I could talk myself out of it, I slowly poured the entire ladle full of water down my chest, closing my eyes at the cool blessing of it. Then, I did the same to my back.

Letting out a soft breath, I turned back to my duty only to find Jamie staring right at me, eyes wide and dark. Although I knew my soaked shirt had turned translucent and clung to my skin, I hadn’t expected it to garner this exact reaction. For one, it was so bloody hot, the idea of creating _more_ heat exhausted me. Besides which, we were nearly done, and had spent all day kneeling; we weren’t old and stiff quite yet, but it was enough to make my joints alert me to their aging presence.

None of that seemed to matter to Jamie.

When he swallowed, I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. His shirt was indeed off by now; he’d removed it an hour ago, and I’d stubbornly not complained at all about my sweat-laden shirt seeming heavy and oppressive. While his eyes traced the dark outline of my nipples against the shirt, my own roamed his chest salaciously and without shame.

Christ, he might as well have been carved from stone.

“ _Mo maise_ ,” he drawled quietly, and I furrowed my brow. That was a new one.

“What was that?”

Jamie blinked and finally looked up, meeting my eyes. “The only thing I could think to say. _My beauty_.”

I felt myself blush, cheeks warming beyond what the sun provided. “Hardly. I feel like a melted candle.”

He made a grunting noise in the back of his throat. “And now the fabric’s only half-dry, and it’ll feel like ye’re steamin’.”

“What, you’d have me take off my shirt in the middle of the garden?” I attempted to balk.

“No.” Jamie’s voice had dropped an octave, which made my eyes meet his again. 

Just that one, evocative change, and I knew I would give him anything he wanted.

“I’d have ye remove _my_ shirt in the middle of the garden.” Slowly, Jamie stood from his kneeling position and watched me. It seemed as though his gaze was on fire, making small flames of want lick at my belly.

“You’re serious?” I asked, wetting my lips and feeling my stomach tighten in anticipation, forgetting any earlier complaints about the heat.

“Oh, aye. Fair’s fair, Sassenach. Ye’ve been eyeing me all this time. ‘Tis my turn,” he decided, a somewhat smug smile on his face.

Rolling my eyes in mock annoyance, I crossed my arms over myself and pulled the shirt up from the bottom, draping it over the fence before turning to face him. Without his having to ask, I pulled my curls free so that the long, wild mess of them flowed freely down my shoulders. I watched his lips part but no sound spilled forth, though idly, he wiped his hands on a cloth hanging from his belt. Now, _I_ was the smug one, and I made my way closer to him.

“Now what, Mr. Fraser?” I asked as one finger dragged down the center of his chest slowly.

When his hand cupped my breast, I closed my eyes at the contrast between my still slightly cool skin and his scorching touch.

“I need to have ye, Sassenach,” he panted against my ear. “Every way I can.”

I pulled my head back to look at him, an eyebrow arching. “In the dirt? Scandalizing my poor plants?”

His hand had worked itself into my trousers; before I could feign protest, his thumb glided across the overheated center of me, and I whimpered.

“If ye can hold out I’ll take ye into the house, but do ye ken, Sassenach? I dinna think ye’ll stop me.”

The bloody bastard was right; he hadn’t even finished his sentence before I wrapped one arm around his neck and the other slung around his hip. My lower half rocked of its own accord, and I dragged myself against his fingertips, eliciting a moan from both of us. I don’t know who began sinking to the ground first; I was only aware of it when his fingers plunged into me and I gasped in pleased surprise. With Jamie, it took very little to make me want him, and he groaned to find me slick and ready. I thought that meant he’d be burying himself inside of me, but instead, he kept his hand right where it was.

Flat on my back, I could feel moist soil against my skin and Jamie’s mouth floating over mine. Reaching out, my hands grasped at his sides, needing an anchor as his fingers curved inside of me, searching for what he knew was there. As he touched, his nose grazed the tip of mine and his lips hovered, breathing the same air with me. His free hand was in my hair, fingers gliding in the same motion as his hand below. Out of breath, I made lazy attempts to catch his mouth with my own, opening my eyes as he denied me.

His focus was intently on mine, and as I met his gaze he smiled, face warm and soft with it. My own smile pulled at the corners of my eyes, causing a pattern of wrinkles to form from years of smiling at him exactly like this. Languidly, my hips rocked in time with the movement of his hand, and I had to close my eyes, tilting my head back. I felt him move from my hair, taking the back of his hand and dragging it along my jawline, letting his knuckles graze my skin. As pleasure wound in my belly, I whimpered and pleaded, opening my eyes only to lunge at him with my mouth.

“I want you inside of me,” I panted, flashing back for a moment to a campfire twenty-five years ago.

His smile proved he recalled the same moment, and repeated now what he’d said then.

“I want to watch ye, Sassenach,” he murmured, and I couldn't say I minded.

As his fingertips grazed my mouth, I pressed my lips to them and he moved faster, causing my back to arch and my arousal to slick his path, making his touch faster, easier. His free hand once again drifted down my breastbone, and I wondered if he could feel the way my heart slammed. His eyes locked on mine, and as my pleasure hit a crescendo, I pressed my forehead to his until finally, _finally_ he gave me his mouth to sink into. Crying out his name into our kiss, I pressed my hips into his touch until I shattered into oblivion, one hand holding his curls in a death grip, the other grabbing a fistful of earth.

Jamie eased me down slowly, fingers sliding from my body only to graze the insides of my thighs. I could feel his smile against my mouth as I relaxed and let out a soft breath of contentment.

“Christ, do ye ken how perfect ye are?” he breathed out, the question rhetorical, as I slowly dragged the tip of my nose up his cheek. When his hand withdrew, he brought his fingers to his lips, holding my gaze as he licked them clean one at a time. “I dinna think a wee _taste_ will do,” he decided as his mouth began to blaze a trail down my body. For a moment, he doubled back to have his way with each breast before finally continuing on.

I wasn’t sure I fully processed his intentions until his hands were pushing my trousers down and my legs were complying of their own accord. Laying flat on his belly, Jamie pushed apart my thighs before burying his face between them, making me thank God for his enthusiasm. Both of my hands pressed into his hair, back arching as I sobbed out my pleasure. It was so close on the heels of my first climax that I found myself gasping and writhing beneath him in a matter of moments. Draping a leg over his shoulder, my hands restlessly moved through his hair, unable to stay still.

As my pleasure began to peak, Jamie roughly repositioned himself and yanked my hips forward, making me cry out sharply and arch. His tongue felt relentless as a hand moved up my chest and over a breast, squeezing with fervency. I panted, fingernails digging into his scalp as I held my breath and then, on a gasping cry of his name, peaked again with my thighs around his head like a vice. I felt him retreat, pressing a scorching kiss to my navel before rising over me, my hands reaching to shove at his trousers as our mouths met and tongues clashed.

“Christ, Jamie, it's so hot,” I whined as he guided himself into me. “I feel like I’m on fire.”

“I’ll burn beside ye,” he grunted, moving hard and fast within me, pressing my hands up and over my head. Every time he filled me I gasped, one arm wriggling free and hooking around his neck as he buried himself as deeply as he could, over and over again. I felt as though my skin was burning as my heart pounded with over-exertion. My vision swam and still, I leaned forward, biting at his shoulder. I felt him shudder and heard the sound of our hips coming together over and over again, a chaotic symphony that recounted a story of lust and bone-deep need.

“ _Tha gaol agam ort_ ,” he mumbled into my hair; that one I knew.

“I love you,” I managed to gasp out, the effort to make the words taking all the air from my lungs. “I love you, too, Jamie.”

Dizzy with pleasure and overheating, I felt my body squeeze around his, and without warning, Jamie drove home twice more before spilling into me with a loud groan of my name. It was such a different warmth, this one flooding me from the inside out. His hips moved long enough for pleasure to ripple up and down my spine once more; quieter, lazier this time.

Panting heavily, he at least had the good sense to lie on his back beside me, rather than rest on top of me in the heat. My skin felt sticky and damp, and I could feel my hair clinging to my forehead and neck, wet with sweat. With my eyes closed, I was vaguely aware of Jamie moving away from me for a moment and then returning, settling beside me again. The yelp of surprise I gave as cool water trickled down my chest was _quite_ undignified.

Jamie’s laugh had me opening my eyes to glare at him but I soon found I couldn’t help but return his smile.

“ _Mo luaidh_ ,” he breathed out, leaning over to kiss me before helping me sit up and drink some water.

“What does that one mean, Jamie?” I asked after taking a few sips, passing the ladle over to him.

“My darlin’,” he said with a grin. “Weel, ‘my dear,’ to be more specific about it.”

I watched as he drank greedily, reaching out to run my hand up and down his shoulder. “I like all of the sweet names you call me,” I admitted, not for the first time, and with a soft smile.

“Ye inspire me to call ye many things in different languages,” he revealed, bending to kiss my forehead. A true act of love, considering how sweaty I was.

“Like what?” I all but purred, turning my head to nuzzle his jaw.

“ _Mon trésor_ ,” he breathed out against my throat, and I smiled.

“Your treasure?” I asked, laughing quietly under my breath.

“My gift,” Jamie amended, shifting to stand and reaching out to help me up. Once I was on my feet, he pulled me into a kiss before dragging his nose up the bridge of mine. “Time gave me a gift, Claire.”

He nuzzled my temple before kissing my forehead once more. Kneeling, he gathered our clothes, cradling them in the crook of one arm, then reaching for my hand with his free one.

“Come, Sassenach, before we press our luck wi’ Ian returning home.”

“Christ, that’s all we need,” I agreed, shaking my head and walking beside him. “I want to get you in some cool water before I rub aloe into your skin,” I decided, fussing over him already. But inside the house, I tugged at his hand until he turned and faced me.

“You’re a gift to me too, Jamie.”

His smile made joy well as tears in my eyes, and our foreheads met once more.

The heat was all but forgotten.


End file.
